First Down: A Nerdy Virgin Meets a Badboy Football Player Romance Read online

  Zach cups my jaw in his large hand and bends down, pressing his lips softly against mine. I gasp into his mouth before returning the kiss. He keeps the pressure light and teasing, his palm rough against my skin. My reaction is less teasing. I sink into him, gripping the front of his shirt in my fisted hands, sliding my tongue between his parted lips. He groans and presses me against the shelf—thankfully one that's anchored into the wall. His body traps me against the spines of books and I send out a silent apology for treating them this way. I'm pretty sure they understand and probably even approve.

  He casts a spell over me, he tastes like butterbeer.

  Zach's kiss makes me think magic is real.

  2

  Zach

  I trap Tara with my body against the bookshelf, unable to resist kissing her before I leave, wanting to give her a little taste of what's to come. She smells like cookies and tastes like butterscotch schnapps. Someone's been sampling the grownup butterbeer. She slips her tongue into my mouth and lets out a little breathy whimper when I respond in kind. Her reaction surprises me, but I like it. She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer to her. She's warm and soft and so tiny. She makes me feel like the fucking Hulk. And I like it. Lust pounds through me rushing straight to my dick. But there's a strange affection overriding the lust. Something I haven't experienced in a long time. This girl is dangerous. She's different from the usual. She'll be a lot harder to forget.

  Something I'm willing to chance. I've always loved a good gamble. And this tiny little, adorable, sexy sorceress is the best game I've played in a long time.

  She shudders in my arms and my grip on her hips tighten. I can feel the banging hot body covered by her green velvet robe. She has surprising curves for such a small frame.

  I pull away from Tara and her delicious mouth with a groan, but I am not ready to release her from the prison I created for her with my body right away. "I really have to go," I whisper, my voice rough.

  "Okay," she whispers back, her hands sliding from my shoulders, her tits bouncing with each ragged breath that hisses between her teeth.

  Fuck, she's so hot. "I'll be back later." Unable to resist, I duck down to kiss her again. She's so fucking responsive with her little whimpers and moans and the way she digs her nails into my skin. If my sister didn't need to get home, I'd drag her to a supply closet and sink myself inside her right now. My cock is so fucking hard it hurts.

  I pull away again, trying to get control over myself. "Okay, now I really have to go."

  She smiles and pushes me back a couple steps, ducking under my arm. "You do. And I have to finish up here." Her robe is pushed to the side and I can see her hard nipples poking through the fabric of her blouse. She wants me as badly as I want her, her desire fully on display through her shirt. It takes everything inside me not to reach up and tweak them. I adjust her robe and she blushes, looking far too appetizing.

  "Thanks."

  I stop myself from yanking her back over to me. The faster I get Kayla home, the faster I can return and get Tara out of that robe. "I'll see you in a little while."

  She nods and I force myself to actually leave, heading off to find my sister. I look back and Tara is still standing there, staring after me with a glazed look in her eye. I smirk at her and she blushes again. I definitely made an impression. And I'm definitely getting some tonight. Who knew a nerdy Harry Potter party at a bookstore would hold such promise? I'd really had to wrack my brain for Harry Potter facts to impress her. I have always loved the books, but it's been a while since I've read them.

  Shit, she is hot.

  I collect my sister who's as reluctant to leave as I am, though for wildly different reasons I hope, and herd her out to the car. She's almost shaking with her excitement over the party, but I barely listen to her babble on as I drive her home. I can't stop thinking about Tara, and the sexy witch-librarian thing she has going on. Without the glasses, and with her hair down...she'll be a knockout. Hell, she's a fucking knockout dressed like McGonagall.

  I can't wait to peel the robe from her and get her out of that outfit and into my bed, her bed, the floor, wherever. And after that hot kiss and her invitation, I'm pretty sure it'll be happening tonight.

  Some of Kayla's chatter breaks through. "Wasn't that just the best party ever?" she asks in a shrieking voice.

  I chuckle and nod. "It was pretty impressive." It really was. Tara had definitely gone all out.

  She squeals and claps her hands. "I've never been to such a cool party before. It was so much fun."

  Picturing Tara, I nod. "It was fun." It's nice seeing my normally pretty shy and quiet sister so excited. And it was nice seeing her come out of her shell playing Harry Potter trivia.

  She continues, bouncing in the passenger seat. "The owner of the place was pretty cool too. She did such a good job making it feel like Hogwarts. Can we go back next year? I heard someone mention they do it every year."

  Interesting. Though it might be awkward to return next year, but Kayla is so excited. I'll figure out something. "Sure, kiddo."

  She shoves my arm, making the car swerve a little. Just what I need is to get pulled over for drunk driving. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

  Oh, that's right. My little sister is too old for pet names from her big brother. "Sorry. Kiddo." I can't resist.

  "Zach!" She is not amused. She crosses her arms over her chest.

  "We're not in public. No need to be embarrassed." I grin over at her little scowling face.

  She doesn't reply and I can at last finish the drive in silence, thinking about Tara.

  We finally pull up to my parents’ house, and I get out with Kayla and walk her inside. I want to see how things went with Mom and Dad. Kayla skips straight up to her room, murmuring something about wanting to get into something more comfortable, and I wander through the house until I find Mom.

  She's sitting at the kitchen counter, staring at a glass of wine. She jumps at my greeting, turning to face me with a tired smile on her face.

  "How did it go?" I ask, frowning with worry. This doesn't bode well for their night together.

  She tries to strengthen her smile, but I'm not fooled. The night clearly didn't go as well as we'd hoped. "We had a delicious meal together. It was delivered here and we had a lovely time. Candles and music and everything. We even shared a dance."

  I raise a brow and draw the word out. "But?"

  The fake smile finally melts from her face, and she sighs. "But your dad ran out of energy pretty fast and ended up going to bed before we got to dessert."

  I walk over to her and pull her into a hug. There isn't anything I can say to make this better. She clings to me, her body trembling slightly. Dammit. Just...dammit. I close my eyes tight and gulp down the clog in my throat. Fuck. This. Fuck. Everything.

  The experimental treatment they're doing for Dad's MS will either work or it won't. Thank God I can afford to pay for them. Most families never even get the chance to try, since insurance doesn't cover experimental treatments. Which is pure fucking bullshit. How many lives could be saved if they stopped being such assholes? This was our only hope after the immunosuppressive therapy had failed miserably.

  But the chemo they are putting him through is hard on him. The first trial group had all been way younger than Dad, and this is an incredibly aggressive treatment. Once they're finished destroying his immune system with chemo, they're going to rebuild it with stem cells they already harvested from his blood back before his blood had a chance to develop the flaws that might trigger the disease.

  It was a huge fucking gamble, because this treatment had killed people younger and healthier than him, but Dad is nothing if not a fighter. I know he can beat it. He has to. He can't leave us. It'll kill Mom and Kayla.

  And me.

  And if it works, he'll be disease free. Those it worked on already are in their second decade with no relapses. He'll start needing special aftercare soon, but I can afford that too. Whatever it takes
. Whatever it costs. I don't care as long as Kayla and I get to keep our dad. As long as Mom gets to keep her husband.

  Mom pulls away, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with her freshly manicured red nails. The sight hits me with a pang. She'd gone all out to have a nice night with Dad and here she sits, alone. With booze.

  She pats my arm. "You should get going, Zach. I'm going to take this wine upstairs and have a nice bubble bath."

  I frown, Tara calling to me, but unwilling to leave Mom alone in this state. "You sure? I can stay and keep you company for a while."

  Mom shakes her head. "No, sweetheart. I love you for offering, but I'm pretty tired myself. I'd like to just relax."

  With a sigh, I kiss her cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow."

  She smiles and waves me away.

  My shoulders slump as soon as I close the front door behind me. A headache starts pounding at my temples. I need a drink. Or seven. I shake it off as I slide into my car and drive through the night back to the bookstore. Tara said there would be booze. And maybe after a drink or two, I can focus on her, and forget all the shitty stuff for a while.

  Nothing will take my mind off things like a pretty girl's body, and Tara is even more than that—she's interesting. She owns a business, she's smart, she hosts kickass parties, she's—well, she's a real step above the usual groupies. If I were to guess, I'd say she actually has no idea who I am.

  Which is refreshing as hell.

  It gets old never having time to really be alone because reporters or fans could always be around the next corner, wanting autographs, wanting photos, wanting to get to say they touched or met me, wanting to post everything on social media, proving they are as cool as they think they are. I'm blessed as hell to get to do what I love and get paid for it. A crapload of money too. But sometimes I really miss being no one.

  It's nothing I can ever really admit out loud either. No one wants to hear the rich and famous dude bitch about his awful life of fame and how hard it is to have oh-so-much money.

  I park down the street from the bookstore and walk along the darkened streets to the door. All the lights are off except for the twinkly lights around all the windows and candles scattered all over the checkout desk. I try the door, but it's locked, so I knock.

  I watch through the door window as Tara skips over to open it, her eyes shining with the flickering lights. "You came back."

  I wiggle my brows. "Of course. You offered firewhiskey. I've never had it, so I couldn't resist coming back to try."

  She smiles. "They're just fireballs. Nothing that exciting." She's still in her McGonagall costume, but she's gotten rid of the glasses.

  I smirk at her. "I'm sure I can find something exciting to do." It's hard to stop myself from pulling her into a kiss, but I don't want to push things too fast. She's not like the usual women. I have to play this smart.

  Red dusts her cheeks. "Well, come on in. We're playing Never Have I Ever." Shit. That's a dangerous game for me. I'll be drunk in five minutes. Or, I can lie.

  I nod to myself. Lying it is. I don't want her to think I'm a man slut anyway.

  I step through the doorway, enjoying the way the robe sways around her hips as she walks. I just know she's got a great ass hidden under there. "Uh oh. Are you planning to get me drunk?"

  She glances at me over her shoulder. "If you do, it's your own fault."

  My cock stiffens and I laugh as I follow her through the stacks to a big table set up in one of the corners. She introduces me to the people around the table dressed in different costumes. I forget their names before she's finished saying them all. I'll only be able to think of them as their Harry Potter characters. Everyone smiles and toasts me, none of them seem to recognize me. It's like I've found myself in another world. One filled with books and magic and art and philosophy. And really delicious booze.

  I like it. I finally get a chance to be no one. It helps all my stress and worries fall away as I take a seat beside Tara. She left it open, saving it for me, trusting I'd come back.

  Beers and shots of Fireball are flowing as the game grows rowdier and everyone gets drunker. They must have been playing for a while.

  "Never Have I Ever been put in handcuffs!" Dumbledore shouts. Everyone roars at the thought of Dumbledore handcuffed to a bed. I'm usually the guy putting others in handcuffs, so I don't drink.

  Tara leans over. "I've always sort of shipped Dumbledore and Grindewald. I could totally see them get all kinky like that."

  I laugh, closing my eyes against the scent of vanilla and spice coming off of her. She smells like a bakery. A delicious hot bakery. And I can't wait for my first bite of her.

  I start with sips of beer, not wanting to be drunk when I get Tara alone, only drinking on the tamer admissions in the game. Dumbledore mentioning handcuffs has put filthy images in my head. …of Tara naked and at my mercy tied to the bed. …of her writhing and moaning with my head buried between her legs.

  Adjusting my position in my seat, I shove my attention back to the game. I don't want to pop a boner here.

  Snape grins. "Never Have I Ever smoked weed."

  Over half the table drinks at that one, myself included. Tara shifts in her seat, her leg brushing against mine. I bite back an actual moan. This girl has me fucking spellbound. I need to get between her legs soon.

  Mrs. Weasely goes next. "Never Have I Ever gone skinny dipping." It's hilarious coming from Mrs. Weasely's mouth. And a little bit disturbing.

  Everyone but Tara knocks back shots and gulps beer as the game progresses and grows dirtier. She hasn't taken a sip since I got there. Good. I don't want her drunk either when I rip that robe off of her.

  My cock twitches at the thought of what she has hidden underneath her McGonagall costume. I can't stop imagining it. This game needs to hurry the fuck up and wrap up. I don't think I can wait much longer.

  I watch her laugh at one of the questions, throwing her head back, pure joy shining from her face, her long neck arched and tempting me to kiss and lick my way up and down it. My eyes flick down to her tits, which are still frustratingly hidden by the robe, but I can just make out her curves. I want to rip it open and send buttons flying across the room.

  If this game doesn't end soon, I'm going to shock everyone by doing it right here and taking her on the fucking table. Or I'm going to toss her over my shoulder caveman style and carry her off to be ravished. Or I'm going to yank her onto my lap and bounce her up and down, fucking her from behind.

  Needing to touch her, I slide my arm across the back of her chair. I'm acting like a motherfucking fourteen-year-old on his first date. She sucks in a breath when my hand brushes against the back of her neck.

  At least I'm making it as hard for her to concentrate as it is for me. I brush against her again, watching her chest swell with another sharp breath.

  She crosses her legs under the table, making sure they press against mine. I can feel the shiver that wracks through her. I swallow hard, trying desperately to keep my cock under control.

  "Never Have I Ever slept with a married woman. Or man." Dobby says.

  That's one of the few I wouldn't need to drink to. I don't do that sort of drama. And I sure as hell am not going to be the reason a marriage breaks up. Especially since it would be splashed across the tabloids before I'd pulled my dick out of her and my pants back up. Part of the reason I like it here so much is the douchebags who write for those rags would never expect to find me here. But I hadn't worn a costume just in case. I do not feel like listening to the guys rag me about dressing up in a Harry Potter costume.

  They already know about the party. I'm too stressed out over Dad to deal with giving them any more ammo. I feel bad for lying to Tara about it, but I didn't feel like going into it.

  She's the first person, other than Kayla, to whom I've admitted my love of Harry Potter. But when Dad got sick, I'd read them to Kayla to keep her mind off it and help her sleep when he was in the hospital overnight. And the books had healed and helped b
oth of us. Though I'm not quite as obsessed as Kayla, Tara, and all these people.

  "Never Have I Ever gotten drunk playing this game," Tara leans over and confides, her eyes sparkling the way I thought they would without the spectacles.

  Fuck, I'm in trouble with this woman.

  As the group laughs loud and hard over the last one, I take her hand in mine and pull her up from the table, unable to wait anymore. She rises with no resistance, gripping my hand. I tug her towards me and she comes with a smile, taking over the lead.

  We slip quietly away from the table and head to the back, where I follow her up the stairs to her apartment.

  It's a loft filled with books and plants and more fairy lights. Magical and filled with whimsy, just like her.

  We're hardly through the door before my mouth is on hers. She tastes like freedom.

  3

  Tara

  My stomach swoops like I'm flying down the hill of a roller coaster as Zach clutches me to him, his hands roving under the folds of my robe. He has me pinned against the door with his massive body, his mouth casting the same spell over me as earlier. Magic from his lips trickles over me, sending shivers across my skin like he's using the tickling charm against me. My tongue sweeps into his mouth, dueling with his. He nips the tip of my tongue, making me whimper and turn my fingers into claws scraping down the back of his shirt. He shudders and grips me tighter.

  I break away, needing a moment. To think, to gather my tattered bearings. To breathe.

  "What's wrong?" Zach asks, his eyes dark and swirling with lust, worry beginning to crease the edges.

  I shake my head, still dazed, but trying to soothe his worry. "Nothing. I just need a second. Help yourself to anything to drink in the fridge. I have some beers, I think." I wave a hand around my loft apartment, glad I tend to keep things tidy and don't have a mess scattered about. Other than the piles of tottering books and shelves groaning from the weight of more books. But it's quaint and cozy. At least to my eyes. And I hope to his.